


Little Talks

by Ozymanreis



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [66]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Babies, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic, Panicky Sherlock, Parenthood, allusions to Jim's emotional issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymanreis/pseuds/Ozymanreis
Summary: No amount of parenting books and videos could ever have prepared him forthis.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #46: Family

“ _Jim!_ ” A hushed whisper in his ear, groggy brain barely registered it at all.

The consulting criminal felt as if he’d only just laid down for his nap — parenthood had been proving _challenging_ to say the least. The myth about babies rarely sleeping didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.

“Mm?” Jim hummed, turning his head to the noise, gears turning slowly until they provided the vital clue: that tone was pure _panic._ “What’s wrong?” He sat up as quickly as he could, muscles feeling as if dosed in molasses.

“We need to take Liddy to the hospital.” Sherlock sat on the edge of the mattress, hand on Jim’s shoulder, shaking him a little, face absolutely stricken. In his other arm, their daughter cooed softly, trying to squirm out of his grasp.

That’s enough to kick his brain back into gear, “ _Why?_ ” Immediate reaction, but he was pushing Sherlock out of the way, getting out of bed to find his trousers.

“She- she ate a _cricket._ ” Sherlock put his face in his hands, “I looked away for less than ten seconds, and she-”

“ _Sherlock._ ” Jim stopped dead, sighing hard, “You woke me for _that?_ ”

“It could get lodged in her throat!”

Jim, still tired, blinked, glancing down at their child. Annoyed or not, sleep-deprived specifically because of her, there was still something about her that calmed his mind, “She seems to be breathing fine.” He wet his lips, looking back up at his husband, “And entire cultures have eaten crickets, and have survived just fine. Better than if they didn’t, in fact.”

Sherlock stuttered, the crazed, clouded look sapping out of his eyes. Thoughts collecting themselves again, the detective began to remember what it was like to think rationally, parental panic abating. He looked down, tiny hands beginning to pull at his shirt, a silent request of, “Let me down?”

The criminal smiled in adoration at the sight, laying back onto the mattress, “It’s interesting, I thought you could rationalize these things on your own.”

“Usually I can, but…”

“But it’s too personal,” Jim finished, “Close to home, the heart.”

Sherlock swallowed, “Precisely… I suppose I should thank you for being the voice of reason.”

Something in his tone made Jim’s nose wrinkle, craning his neck to look back up, “But how come I’m not freaking out as well?”

Sherlock shrugged, looking down guiltily.

“Truth is… I do. Often. I’ve just had a lifetime of fighting it off.” Jim smiled wanly, stretching his arms above his head, then grabbing another pillow, “I know when to listen to it.”

As if struck, Sherlock flinched back, as if he had just remembered the things that plagued his beloved. More guilt, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply.”

“You didn’t.” Jim closed his eyes, “Panic can be good anyway. Sometimes.”

“So I’m learning.” Sherlock stood up, hefting Liddy over his shoulder, “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you for your shift in a few hours.”

Jim scowled, but didn’t open his eyes again, “A few hours.” He repeated, “How long was I asleep?”

“Ten minutes, give or take.”

“You bastard.” Jim rumbled, but sleep had already begun to take hold, voice robbed of malice.

“Yet you married me.” Sherlock hummed as he closed the door behind him.

_Yes I did,_ Jim wanted to say, words lost in his throat, _And still no regrets._


End file.
